


The Barber

by sock10



Series: Daemon AU [4]
Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27020578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sock10/pseuds/sock10
Summary: Strange prepares for trial.
Relationships: Gilbert Norrell/Jonathan Strange
Series: Daemon AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656037
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	The Barber

**Author's Note:**

> Picks up a while after the previous section.

Strange sat in the chair in the library, in the light of the window, a white cloth covering him, tied at his neck, that kept the falling hair off him.

The barber moved carefully around him. With each _snip_ , the long scissors removed more curls of Strange's unruly hair.

Norrell stood in front of the fire.

Childermass sat in the corner.

"There we are, sir," said the barber. He had a foreign accent -- Childermas had found the man, who was said to be quite skilled, and at short notice he was the best option, a man who would not know who Strange was.

The barber removed the cloth.

Strange rose from his chair. Henrietta stood as well from where she had been sitting near the window.

Strange passed his hand absently down the front of his waistcoat. He touched his jaw, freshly-shaven. His hair was shorter, more as it had been when Norrell had first met him, though there was some grey in it now. He was thinner, his face a little more gaunt -- but his clothes were handsome and smart, and as he stood at the window, his hands clasped behind his back, he looked very much the gentleman -- nothing like the man they had carried into the house in shackles two months ago.

"Why -- you look very well," said Norrell. "Very well indeed."

Childermass took the barber out into the hall. He would see that the man was paid.

"At least I shall be presentable when I go before the court," Strange said.

Norrell came away from the fire, he joined Strange at the window.

"I hope you are not worrying yourself unduly over it, Mr Strange. I have told you, there is nothing to fear. They will ask their questions and you need only answer them in the way we spoke of. I met with the Duke of Wellington and he assured me that he would be speaking also on your behalf."

Strange shook his head, tucked his chin down. He gazed out at the street, the white light from the overcast day giving his face a pallid look. 

"I would rather you let me face justice."

"You know I do not like it when you speak in this way."

Strange's hard expression eased as he glanced at Norrell. "Forgive me." 

Henrietta nosed at his leg, nuzzling him. Strange laid his hand on her head, looking down for a moment.

"Mr Norrell," he murmured, lifting his eyes again. "I hope...you know how very grateful I am for all that you have done for me --"

He broke off as Childermass came back into the room, a footman with a dustpan and brush behind him. There was an awkward moment in which Norrell did not know what to do -- whether or not to send Childermass and the man away so that he and Strange might continue their conversation.

"Please, Mr Strange, say no more about it." Norrell picked up a book from the table and collected Dorethea from her perch. "Did you pay the man?" he asked Childermas.

"I did, sir."

"Good. Good."

The footman set to work sweeping up the hair clippings from the floor.

Norrell moved the book between his hands restlessly. He went to stand at Strange's side once more and said in an undertone,

"I pray you will not worry about this trial." He caught the other man's eye and nodded with a meaningful look. "All will be well."

Strange responded only with a smile, small and crooked, a brief tightening of the lips, and then his gaze returned to the street below, his look far-away.

*


End file.
